


Witchy Business

by CuriousBones



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural (TV)
Genre: But the other doesn't know, Dean and Reader like each other, Eventual Dean Winchester/Reader, F/M, Fluff, Witch Case, please just give it a try, so let me know if you'd like for me to continue, this is just an idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousBones/pseuds/CuriousBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a witch case in a small town in Alabama, and it seems that just about everyone in the apparently sugar-sweet town has something to hide. Meanwhile, tensions slowly rise between Dean and the reader, who are oblivious to the other's feelings for them and are completely bent on trying to forget their own. Not much can be said for the tiny town of Mooresville, AL, but all that's needed to know is that the main suspect, may just be the one they need the most to solve the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Witches? Man, I Hate Witches!

**Author's Note:**

> This is seriously just an idea I was spit-balling and figured I'd give it a try. Please let me know what you think of it and whether you'd like a next chapter at the bottom...

"So get this," Sam walked into the war room, setting his laptop on the mapping table. You looked up, pushing your reading glasses back up your nose from where they'd slipped down in your heavy researching session. "There's a small town in Alabama called Mooresville - really old fashioned, it's like a step back into the 19th century - that has had 2 strange deaths in the same week. Witnesses at both deaths said that it was pretty much impossible how they died. The first victim - Andrea Clarkson, 17 - was eating an ice cream cone at the ice cream parlor with her friends when she died. Started choking and coughing out razor blades. But-" he stopped Dean as he began to open his mouth. "The girl was finished when she started coughing them up. How do you finish a whole ice cream cone without realizing there's a mouthful of razor blades inside? One of her friends said it was like they just appeared out of nowhere." 

Dean simply shrugged, typing away on his computer now. "What about the second victim?"

"Second victim," Sam scrolled down the page, muttering. He began reading. "Trevor Wilkinson, also 17. Lived in the same neighbourhood as Andrea. Drowned in his shower. His mom heard-" 

"Woah, woah, woah. Drowned… in the shower? Not bathtub?" Dean looked at Sam and you with a cynical expression. 

You shrugged, and Sam continued. "His mother found him in the shower. She heard yells from the bathroom, and when she got in, the water was somehow rising up to the top, like something was clogging the drain, so none of the water could drain down. The shower's glass door wouldn't open, so she smashed it with a…" he squinted at the screen, then raised his eyebrows. "A ceramic toothbrush holder." Dean raised his eyebrows. 

"Hm," he nodded his head absentmindedly. "Well, that certainly puts a damper on that joke." Sam looked at him, an are-you-kidding-me look on his face. 

"What joke could you possibly be talking about?"

"You know, the 'dwain' joke." You rolled your eyes. Not this again. Sam just looked at him with raised eyebrows. Dean sighed, leaned forward and let a hint of a smile ghost over his lips. "Knock Knock-"

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Sam said with a this-is-bullshit set to his jaw. 

"No, Sammy, answer it! I swear it's the most hilarious joke you'll have ever heard in your life! Come on!" Sam sighed, gesturing for him to continue. "Thank you. Knock knock."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Who's there?" 

Dean stifled a snicker. "Dwain."

"Dwa- *sigh*- dwain who?" Sam just flat out looked like a tired parent who's 4 year old was telling them the new joke they just thought of. 

Dean tried to keep a straight face for the sake of the punchline. "Dwain the tub, I'm dwowning!" He snickered with a cheeky grin on his face, waiting for Sam to join in. Sam merely sighed at his utterly childish older brother, looking severely unimpressed. 

"So, we're dealing with a witch, then," he simply continued their prior conversation as if Dean hadn't just told him possibly the worst groaner the world had ever had the inconvenience of hearing. You nodded at Sam. 

"Most likely. I don't know what else it could be," you said sheepishly. 

Dean got over his fit of chuckles as the conversation became serious again. He groaned. "I freaking hate witches. They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere… it's creepy, y'know… it's downright unsanitary!" This time, Sam smiled at his older brother. The man could behead a vampire any way to get the job done, but when it came to germs, he was a squeamish 5 year old. 

"Yeah, well, you're gonna have to suck it up." You went back to your research, looking up more details on the case. 

***

"Good morning, I'm Agent Williams and this is my partner, Agent Morse-" Sam and Dean flashed the first victim's mother their FBI badges. You had opted to stay back and see if you could find anything else to help with the case. "We are on the case investigating your daughter's death." 

"I'm Elizabeth, Andrea's mother. Her father's just inside, if you'd like for me to call him." She smiled at them weakly, grief draining the softness from her pale blue eyes, giving her a tired and heartbroken expression. 

"Please, if you would," Sam smiled kindly. Mrs. Clarkson turned back into the house, her short blond hair wisping around the tops of her shoulders. 

"Lawrence, some agents from the FBI are here," she called gently into the house. A man emerged from a doorway that the boys assumed led to the living room. He had thinning salt and pepper hair, with the same grieving eyes as his wife. 

"Good morning, sir. We're very sorry for your loss," Sam said sincerely to the man. 

Mr. Clarkson tried to give him a smile, but it faltered weakly. "How can I help you?"

"Um, we were hoping to ask a few questions concerning your daughter," Sam asked softly. Mr. Clarkson nodded, standing back. 

"Please, come in," Mrs. Clarkson asked. 

"Thank you," Dean nodded curtly before stepping into the suburban home. 

***

"Well, I don't know what to say," Dean spoke into the phone as the two hunters sat in the Impala. "I mean, as far as the vic's parents are concerned, the whole town is just peachy. Squeaky clean."

You hummed thoughtfully on the other end of the line, tapping a finger on your chin. "Well, I didn't get much from here. There's a small herbs and spices shop not far from the motel that might be able to give me something. I'm going to walk over there right now and check out their log books. See who's been paying them a visit as of late."

"Awesome." You smirked at Dean's reply. "Sam and I will take door duty. Ask around the neighbors. Tomorrow we'll visit the second vic's mother."

"Alright, meet you guys back at the motel in a couple hours? I'll pick up some grub on the way back." 

"Sounds like a plan," Dean agreed. You hung up, shutting your laptop and grabbed your jacket. 

***

"Hello sir, I'm Agent Rose," you showed the shopkeeper your fake badge. He seemed to be about 19 or so, with a light mustache growing on his top lip and a pathetic soul patch just above his chin. His eyes were sunken, and his shirt reeked of cigarette smoke, among other substances. His skeletal frame rested against the counter, yellow teeth showing between his thin lips. You smiled uncomfortably, pocketing your badge. "My partners and I are here to investigate the two recent deaths in town, and we have reason to believe the merchandise at your shop may be crucial to the investigation. May I please see your log books? And if you have a list of recent shoppers, I'd like to see that too, please." The kid ran his tongue over his yellow teeth, pausing. 

"Sure," he said, eyeing you in a way you couldn't quite identify, but it made your skin crawl. He pushed his skeletal frame off the glass counter, ducking down. He stood back up with a thick leather book, sliding it to you over the counter. "I'll be right back with the log book, madam," he said, slithering away behind a red velvet curtain behind the counter. 

A moment later, he returned with a ratty old journal, the spine peeling like it had been used for a long time. "Ain't got too much of a varied clientele," he drawled. "Couple of regulars come in 'bout once a week."

You took the book and flipped through the pages. "Anyone in particular?" You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. 

He pursed his lips curtly, then ran a tongue over his teeth. "Well, we got one lady who came by twice this week. She's a pretty regular customer, Meredith Cassidy. Ain't too many people 'round here who don't know 'er, but she don't talk too much 'bout her business here. All she ever says is only this place has ingredients for her peach pie. Although, I don't got a clue where she's comin' from. We got a pretty thoroughly stocked baking ingredients section at the town grocery store." He looked at you. "We got a lot a' stay-at-home momma's in this here town who do an awful lot a' bakin'." 

You smiled at the young man. "Thanks, I'll be in touch if I need anything else. Please, if you see or hear anything else that's pertinent to the case, call me or my partners." You slid a card out of your pocket and set it on the counter. 

The man picked it up, and gave you a crooked smile. Maybe you were wrong to assume he was shady. He seemed harmless enough. "Absolutely, ma'am. You have yourself a good day."

As you left, you thought about what he'd said. Now, you'd made your fair share of pies in your life; apple, blueberry, cherry, peach… And you knew for certain that an apothecary shop in a small town would not sell the types of spices required for a peach pie, especially when there was a vastly stocked baking and spices section in the town's grocery store. 

You didn't know what Meredith Cassidy was cooking up in her kitchen, but you were sure it wasn't peach cobbler.


	2. Questioning Miss Cassidy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader overhears some interesting conversation between the brothers, and the hunters pay a visit to their first suspect, Meredith Cassidy.

You had picked up some grub on the way back to the motel, carrying the multiple paper bags in your full arms. You walked up to the motel room door, and were about to attempt to unlock it, when you heard arguing on the other side. 

"Damnit, Sam, why can't you just butt the hell out?"

"Dean, I'm serious! Just say something! You're only making yourself miserable by ignoring how you feel!"

"I don't give a flying rat's ass what you think. Butt out, Sam."

You decided to break up the argument before it got any worse, shoving your key into the door as loudly as possible to alert them of your arrival. 

"Hey…" you said nonchalantly, acting as though you hadn't overheard their argument. 

Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, Y/N." Sam hurried over to help you with two of the bags of food you were holding. You shook him off when he tried to balance the third one in his arms. 

"Sam, I think I've got this one." You grinned at him. Dean scoffed under his breath. You raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" You could swear you saw Dean's cheeks dusted a light pink, but shook it off as anger from the fight. You rolled your eyes, smiling lightly as you made your way to the kitchen and set down the third bag and the books. Dean noticed the books immediately. "Are those the log books?"

"Uh, yeah, the guy at the shop told me that there was one woman who was pretty regular there, but she says only that place has the ingredients for her peach pies. Apparently she's pretty well-known around town, and she makes a mean peach cobbler. Thing is, the kid says their grocery store has a real thorough baking and spices section for all the stay-at-home moms." You shrugged as you unloaded the colossal fast food meal. Dean looked up in delightful interest at the mention of peach cobbler. 

"I-we should question her tomorrow."

You smiled. "Sure, Dean. We can crack the books open after we eat. I'm starving!"

The boys sat down, digging into the burgers and fries. Sam dug through for a few moments, brow furrowing. He looked up at you, a question on his lips, but you cut him off. 

"Right here," you dug into the third bag, pulling out a side salad for Sam and yourself. "But you still gotta eat a burger, too. Gotta get some meat on your bones," you teased. 

Sam laughed. "Thanks," he pointed at the salad. "Dean would've just skipped out on the salad and told me that rabbit food makes you weak."

Dean glared at his brother. You laughed. You sat down as well, digging into your meal with the brothers. 

***

"Good morning, ma'am. I'm Agent Morse, and this is my partner, Agent Rose. We'd like to just ask you a few questions concerning your neighbor's passing, if you wouldn't mind." Dean smiled charmingly at Meredith Cassidy, and the two of you put your FBI badges back in your jackets. 

"Yes, of course," she opened the door to welcome you in, and you nodded in thanks at the middle aged woman as you stepped into her house. 

"It's a terrible thing, these deaths. Horrible. To think that such young lives were wasted, it-it's just horrible." Meredith offered you a cup of tea, but you politely declined. She shrugged and took a sip of her own. "But then again, all deaths are a tragedy." She shook her head in sadness. 

"Yes, that's burden of the job." Dean sat on her soft leather sofa. "Dealing with cases like this everyday, death, it really does a number on you."

"I really don't know how you do it. FBI, they really are something to admire. Being able to cope like that, it's not something everyone can do." Meredith took another sip. 

"And the thing that makes it so many times harder, is when it's caused by someone else. Death by itself is hard enough to grasp, but to cause it with your own hands, it's not something you would ever hope to do. I, myself, have taken more lives than I'm proud of, and it changes you. To think someone would do it by choice, I have no idea how they can sleep at night." You stared intently at Meredith, studying her behaviors at your words. If she had something to do with these deaths, now would be the time for you to tell.

Her fingers twitched, and she bit her lip. She furrowed her eyebrows in grief- or was it guilt? "I-I really don't know," she chuckled sadly, looking at you, brown eyes clouded in strong emotion. "You, um, you said you had questions for me, agents?"

"Yeah, just the routines. Where you were the day of the death, your relationship with your neighbors, we'd also like to check your recent purchases, just because of the nature of the death. Just precaution, to tie up loose ends," Dean smiled charmingly. 

"Of course. Well, the day Andrea died, I had my sister visiting. We were out all day; if you ask anyone, they'd tell you. I have the receipts for everywhere we went, if you'd like. Andrea was like a daughter to me. I babysat her when she was a child, I took her to her appointments when her parents were slammed at work, I drove her and picked her up from school. I loved her. I just, I can't believe she's gone. I'm still in shock, I just, I don't think I want to accept it. She was so young, so smart. She could have done so many more great things in her life."

You reached forward and rested your hand on her forearm. "I know how you feel. Believe me. I promise we'll find who did this. And I'm sorry, miss Cassidy, but protocol demands that we do see your receipts, please."

Meredith nodded, asking you to wait a moment. She left the room, and returned a minute later with a small plastic box. You opened it to see several receipts differing in length. "Those are all the receipts I have for the last two weeks. I keep them all in boxes for each month, and seeing as it's only the 13th, I haven't quite filled it up yet."

"This is fine. Thank you, ma'am. That's all we have for you. Thank you for your cooperation and hospitality." Dean gave a hint of a smile and the two of you got up and headed to the door. 

Before you left, Meredith called after you again. "Agents, perhaps it might help you to ask Laura Carpenter down the street, house number 2134. She and the Clarkson family have never been on good terms. She and Andrea's mother were friends in high school, but they had a horrible fight and never seemed to make up. I guess Laura's boyfriend, Lawrence left her for Andrea's mother, Elizabeth. She was livid, and never really let it go."

"Wait, Lawrence, isn't that her husband right now?"

Meredith nodded. "She was definitely not happy when they moved in down the street of her house."

"We'll be sure to check it out, Ms Cassidy, thanks for your help." You nodded curtly at Meredith before you and Dean left her porch and loaded into the Impala parked on the curb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you have any ideas for chapters to come?


	3. Forgive and Forget Ain't Everyone's Motto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio continue in their search for suspects, and learn some interesting information.

Laura Carpenter answered the door on the second ring of the doorbell. She was a petite woman, with long, dark red hair that ended halfway down her back, and had bright green eyes. For a fifty year old woman, she looked good for her age, but you had no doubt that she must have had some work done. "Can I help you?" She asked, concern in her eyes. 

"Uh, yeah, I'm Agent Morse, and this is my partner, Agent Rose." You and Dean flashed your badges. "We'd like to ask a few questions concerning your relationship with Lawrence and Elizabeth Clarkson? As you know, their daughter Andrea died a few days ago, and we're trying to collect as much information as we can from those who knew the family."

"Of course, come in," she held the door open and stepped to the side, allowing you and Dean to enter her house. "It's just terrible, what happened. So sudden." Laura commented sadly as she led you to the living room. 

"Did you know the family well?" You inquired. 

Laura gave a small smile. "Well, everyone knows everyone around here; it's a small town. But I suppose I did know Elizabeth and Lawrence from school. Lawrence and I dated for a while." 

"Until he left you for Elizabeth?" You interposed. Laura chuckled, but it sounded uncomfortable. 

"Well, yes, but that was years ago. I think I'm over it," she laughed again. 

"Meredith Cassidy remembered you were quite upset by the whole thing. And we checked in your files, you even moved away for a few years. Why move back?" The smile was gone from Laura's face. 

"Well, I was offered a scholarship to the University of Georgia after high school. There was no way I would pass up that opportunity. If you don't mind, though, what exactly are you asking me, Agents?" 

"Nothing at all, miss Carpenter. Just trying to get all our information in line." You smiled tightly. "Now, how would you describe your relationship with the Clarkson's now?"

"Fine. We're all great friends in this neighborhood. You do realize Lawrence and I weren't even that serious? I have nothing against him and Elizabeth, despite what Meredith Cassidy may have told you. Did she mention she herself had a history with the Clarkson's? She and Elizabeth were never the best of friends. She never really had any friends in high school; Elizabeth and her friends made sure of that."

You looked at Dean, unsure. "What do you mean?" You asked. "Elizabeth bullied Meredith? Who else?"

"Well, the two others that stuck in my mind were Natalie Saunders, although now she goes by Wilkinson, and Kim Dietrich, now Lawson. They tormented her in school, but we've all grown up now. We were all just kids; Meredith forgave Elizabeth a long time ago."

"Wilkinson, isn't that the second victim's mother?" You looked at Dean, frowning. 

"Yes, Natalie. But you don't think the two could be connected? I mean, like I said, Meredith forgave them all a long time ago. She could never be capable of such a thinf as murder."

Well, forgive and forget ain't everyone's motto," Dean said, and the two of you stood up. "Thank you for your time, muss Carpenter. Call us if you have any other questions or information."

***

"I got it!" You appeared from behind a dusty bookshelf in the Mooresville library, holding the class yearbook of 1984 in your hands. Sam and Dean were sat at a table, looking through newspapers and other yearbook editions, and they looked up as you set the book down. "Graduating class of '84, including Meredith Cassidy, Elizabeth Clarkson née Benson, Lawrence Clarkson, Natalie Wilkinson née Saunders, Kim Lawson née Dietrich, and Laura Carpenter. Laura and Meredith are the only ones who were never married."

As you began flipping through the pages, you noticed that in nearly all the pictures with Elizabeth, Natalie, Kim, Lawrence or Laura, Meredith was in the background behind them. You frowned. How was that possible? You remembered when you had been bullied in high school (a surprising feat considering you had tried to block out all of your high school experience) you made it your mission to stay as far away as possible from the girls who had bullied you. Meredith seemed to always be not 20 feet from them. 

You mentioned this to Sam and Dean. "Hey guys, check this out. In all the pictures of our guys, Meredith is right behind them. Wouldn't you want to stay as far away as possible from your bullies, not within spitting distance?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other, frowning. "Yeah, that's weird." Sam noted. 

"Both Liz and Nat bullied Meredith, and now their kids are dead. That doesn't seem like a coincidence," you narrowed your eyes. 

"I think we should go pay another visit to Meredith Cassidy," Dean pursed his lips. 

***

"Miss Cassidy? Are you home? It's Agents Morse and Rose again, we have some more questions for you," Dean shouted at the door. You had rung the doorbell and knocked on the door for a good five minutes with no answer, but Meredith's car was in the driveway and her lights were on. "Miss Cassidy, you have one more chance before we enter your house by force. Open up!" Dean barked. 

You took out your gun, clicking off the safety. You and Dean waited for another moment. Nothing. "Miss Cassidy, we're coming in!" Dean checked the door handle. It was unlocked. 

You gestured that you would go around to the back, and Dean nodded, opening the door. 

You kept your gun at the ready, keeping alert of your surroundings as you made your way into the backyard. You nearly jumped out of your boots when your phone rang in your pocket, and you answered it, seeing it was Sam. "Sam?"

"Y/N, I've got some bad news. I went to the Clarkson's to ask a few questions about Meredith, but when I got there…" you heart sunk. "They were dead in the kitchen, Y/N. Lawrence's heart was ripped out of his chest and Elizabeth… I barely even recognized her."

"Shit," you swore. "Go to Natalie's place, now! We're at Meredith's house right now." 

"Alright." You hung up and approached the back door, silently opening it. You were thinking it odd that both doors would be unlocked when it hit you. Well, Meredith hit you too, and you swore at yourself for realizing too late that it was a trap. The back of your head ached like a bitch, and you stumbled forward, turning to face Meredith as you caught your balance. 

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to enter someone's house without their permission?" Meredith sneered, holding a vase in her hands. Your vision was blurred, but you could see a splatter of blood on the white and blue floral vase. 

"Where's Dean?" You demanded, looking around you, but keeping your gun pointed at her chest. 

"Don't worry about him; you'll see him soon," Meredith smiled sickly. With a flick of her wrist your gun was ripped from your hands and thrown across the room. Next, it was you. 

You flew into the fridge, hitting your head against the top corner. You fell to the ground, and before you could even get up, you felt a sharp pain over your head and heard a loud shattering, then everything was black.


	4. It Doesn't Take a Hit to the Head…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final part of Witchy Business. Reader wakes up to learn of what happened while she was knocked out.

The first thing you noticed when you came to was the smell. Smelled like pennies, musty furniture and something very, very rotten. Then came the throbbing. Your head ached like you'd slammed it in a car door; a ringing, throbbing pain spreading through your head in constant waves. Last to come was your sight, and as you managed to force your heavy eyelids open, you found yourself wishing you had kept them closed. 

You were in what looked like an old cellar, which was set up to look like an altar of sorts. Burning candles were lining the walls, casting a ghostly shadow over the room, and a large table covered in a velvet cloth rested against the wall opposite you. The worst thing, however, was what was above it. 

Suspended above the table by chains screwed into the walls were the bodies of Natalie and who you assumed was her husband, stripped to their underwear. At least, that's what it looked like. You couldn't tell with all the blood and the gashes. Natalie's throat was slashed several times, her eyes were missing from their sockets, and her stomach was torn open, her internal organs no where to be seen. Her husband looked to be skinned, with chunks of muscle missing from his arms and legs, and a hole in his chest. You assumed his heart would be nowhere to be found, most likely ripped from his chest, and from the amount of dried blood that was covering his chest and body, it must have been taken still beating. The sight of their mangled bodies, hanging like limp marionettes from the ceiling made you gag, forcing you to look away. 

You were wondering how long you'd been out when you noticed some candles and ritualistic ingredients scattered across the floor as if they'd been knocked down. A little further off, you noticed a chair knocked over, and in the shadows, you saw a limp hand laying on the ground, the rest of the body hidden around a corner. You felt your heart leap into your chest as you realized Dean was nowhere to be seen, and felt yourself begin to hyperventilate as your panic kicked in. No, no he couldn't be dead. Dean couldn't be dead. He hated witches, there was no way he would let himself die by the hands of one. No. 

You struggled against your restraints which attached you to the wall behind you, about to cry out for Dean when you heard footsteps. Your heart stopped, and you went limp, awaiting your own inevitable death. If Dean was gone and Sam was still not here and you were restrained without a weapon, there was no way you were making out of alive against such a vengeful witch. You closed your eyes, listening to the footsteps grow closer. The footsteps stopped right beside you. You could hear your heart pounding a thousand beats a minute in your chest. Suddenly, you felt a hand close around your shoulder, and you felt a scream wrench its way out of your throat. Your whole body spasmed, trying to get away from Meredith, kicking and punching with all your might. Another hand grasped your other shoulder, holding you down with a much unanticipated strength. 

"NO! NO, GODDAMMIT! LEAVE ME ALONE! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU BITCH! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL-"

"Y/N, Y/N, stop! Stop it, Y/N! It's okay! It's not Meredith! Y/N, calm down!" You froze at the familiar, gruff voice. 

"D-Dean" You opened your eyes, peering into the youngest Winchester's kind hazel ones. "Dean, you're here? Where's Sam? Where's Meredith?" 

"God, you really did miss all of it. Y/N, it's over. Sammy got to Natalie's house and no one was there, so he raced over here. He saw a blood trail leading down here. He found you but you were out like a light. At first he thought you were… never mind. He found me around the corner in another room tied to a table with Meredith about to slice me to shreds, and we fought her off. We killed her, Y/N. She's gone. She's dead. Sammy's takin' care of the body right now." 

"It's over? I was knocked out through the whole thing?" You slumped in disappointment. Well that was unsatisfying. "What the hell? I missed the fight? Fuck!" Dean chuckled, untying you and helping you up. 

"You alright? You were out pretty good, apparently, but you don't seem to have any broken bones or anything we can't take care of. You've definitely got a nasty concussion, though. We'll have to call Cas for that." He was practically holding you up himself, with you clutching to him like dear life. You nodded, not letting go. Your legs felt like jelly and your head pounded like the holy mother. He helped you up the stairs and out of the house, where Sam was waiting by the car. He helped Dean get you into the car. 

When everyone was in the car, and you were on your way to the motel, you finally spoke again. "So I missed the whole thing?" Sam chuckled. 

"Yeah, you had me pretty worried. When I found you… I thought you might have been dead, Y/N." you noticed Dean's knuckles go white as he clutched the steering wheel, but ignored it. 

"Well that's disappointing. I mean, this would be the worst ending to a book ever. The main character missing the whole ending fight? God! This was like the least satisfying hunt, probably ever." You folded your arms across your chest. 

"Shut up, Y/N. You could have died. I think that's exciting enough for a hunt. The important thing is that we're all alright and that bitch won't hurt anyone again." You bit your lip as you met eyes with Dean. 

"You're right, Dean." Sam let out a snicker before biting his tongue. "What, Sam?" He looked at you from the back seat briefly, then at Dean. 

"It's just, you should have seen Dean when I said you were still unconscious after the hunt. He kinda lost it. Pale face, wide eyes, he looked sick. He flew outta that room for you, like a mother hen. You'd think he-"

"That's enough, Sam." Dean quipped, glaring at the road. He turned the music up before either of you could say anything, gunning it to the motel. 

When you arrived, Dean stayed in the car, not moving. Sam got out and asked you if you'd need help getting out, but you shook your head. "It's alright Sam, just give me a few minutes. I'll be out in a sec." Sam nodded, closing the door and bringing the bags to the room, giving you a thumbs up from the door before entering. You waited a moment, looking at Dean from the back seat. He was staring ahead, hands still on the wheel. "Dean?" You asked. "Are you alright?"

"No, Y/N, I'm not." You bit your lip, suddenly feeling a surge of bravery go through you.

"Is this because you thought I was dead?" He didn't answer. "Dean, earlier I overheard you and Sam arguing about telling someone something. I'm going to take a leap and guess it was me, so I'm going to use my injury card right now and demand you tell me what it was." You were surprised at your own assertive tone, and evidently Dean was too, as he turned around and looked at you before turning back to face forward. 

"You wanna know?"

"Yeah, I wanna know."

"Well I'm not gonna tell you. That was a private conversation."

You felt annoyance swell in your chest. "Damn it, Dean, I'm sick of your lies! You're always having these stupid hushed conversations with Sam, and you never tell me what's up, in fact you never tell me much of anything anymore that doesn't involve a case, and when I get hurt on a case you get all protective, but you know what, you don't to care one second and then not the next!" You ran out of breath as you ranted, but you powered through. "And you know, that really pisses me off, because I've been around for years now, and I'd like to think I'm a part of your family now and even if you don't think of me as family, I do for you two, and I hate being left out of stuff, and I hate missing hunts, and I hate that I missed this one, and I know this isn't really a part of what I'm yelling at you about, but it really pissed me off, missing fighting that bitch, and this whole 'I'm not gonna tell you why I'm upset' thing is just the last straw, so spill!"

Dean whipped around. "You wanna know why I'm so damn secretive all the goddamned time, Y/N?"

"Yes, you asshole!" You screamed. 

"You wanna know?"

"Tell me!" 

Dean breathed hard, staring you in the eyes before grabbing the back of your head and pulling you to him, crushing his lips to yours. You were so shocked you barely registered the pain in your head, trying to process what was happening at that moment. 

Dean pulled away breathlessly, quickly taking his hand from your head. "S-sorry, I didn't realize-" All at once everything was catching up to you at once, and without thinking, you grabbed his collar, bringing him back to you. You kissed him ferociously over the seat, and suddenly everything you both felt seemed to spill out in that kiss, all the stolen gazes, lingering touches, concerned looks after a tough hunt. 

Finally, you pulled apart, breathing hard and fast. Dean looked into your eyes, disbelief and pleasure coloring them that beautiful green you've always loved. "W-" 

"Dean, you have no idea how many times I've imagined myself doing that, and I just need to tell you, I'm really glad you did it first, because I would have never actually done it if you hadn't." You smiled. 

Dean smiled, before turning nervous. "So you really want this, us?" You chuckled. 

"Of course, you dummy. It didn't take a hit to the head to know I wanted you. But it took you making the first move to know you wanted me. You do, right? This isn't some fling? Because I'm not into that. I'm not that kinda girl."

Dean kissed you again. "Babe, I'm in 100%. This was never a fling." You looked into his eyes, and felt a swell of giddiness as you looked into the surest eyes you'd ever seen. You smiled. 

"Good. Because it shouldn't take a hit to the head to know I'll dump your ass if you're anything else, either." Dean chuckled softly, running a hand through your hair. He kissed you again before getting out if the car and opening your door to help you out as well. As you made your way to the motel room, you felt your disappointment over this last hunt disappear, only to be replaced with excitement for all the next to come along side your own kind of happily ever after. 

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it, my lovelies! I'm so sorry it's taken so long; I haven't had the chance to get onto AO3 for a while, but I'm back again now! Please enjoy this ending! I know it's a little unsatisfying that the reader missed the hunt, but I was thinking about how on the show, sometimes one of the brothers is hurt or kidnapped and misses out on the action, and I figured not every hunter has a perfect hunt, so why not?
> 
> Please let me know what you thought and if you have any ideas for new stories down below; I'm in a bit of a slump! Love ya!

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think? Please let me know your thoughts and critiques and whether you'd like a next chapter in the comments below...
> 
> Thanks for reading! And remember...
> 
> Always keep smiling, my lovelies :)


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